


Drawn to You

by Talinor



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Artistic Caleb AU, Canon Compliant, Jester and Caleb are Buddies, M/M, Somewhat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: Right now, the only thing he wore on his torso was his thin white undershirt. The loose deeply-cut garment hung off his shoulders and showed a sizable portion of his chest. It was littered with mysterious scars that easily caught the eye and kept it. Made the mind wander and wonder how they were caused.If his eyes lingered too long on any of them, it was simply for artistic accuracy. That's what he told himself. Whether or not that statement was actually accurate was another thing entirely.





	Drawn to You

**Author's Note:**

> listen  
> i Love critical role and I wanted to write something for it but I never knew what  
> Until I listened to ep 10 and  
> this happened  
> i'm still not through episode 11 yet so please!! no spoilers!!  
> enjoy!

It was a somewhat quiet day. 

The Mighty Nein had come back from yet another successful job in high spirits the night before, and spirits definitely flowed in the celebratory hours to follow. Caleb had retired to his and Nott's room fairly early, but nothing could drown out the noises from downstairs. Not even his go-to activity- studying his spell book, when all his focus was written on pages he'd read a thousand times over- could drown out their liveliness.

As to be expected, the morning after was quite quiet. Not a word had been heard from them in the hours he had been awake. Nott was still out cold in her bed, clasping her empty flask as if it were a precious stone she'd snagged from some unaware pedestrian. He didn't bother her in the slightest as he left their room. Judging from what he'd heard the night before, she certainly needed her sleep.

Once downstairs, he moved to the table closest to the most isolated corner. Barely anyone was up and about yet, but he still made sure to find the quietest seat with the best view. For habit's sake.

Not the habit of studying spells or various pieces of seemingly unimportant information. A similar one that he resorted to when it grew to be too much for a little while. When all the words he'd read blended together into a churning sea of ink and charcoal which overwhelmed his mind, he turned to a different kind of book. As he did now.

It was a tome backed with fresh leather and barely used parchment that held an unfathomable aura of new opportunities. It was a sketching book he'd recently bought after his old one was used on both sides of each page. Only a few pages were used of this one so far, mainly of the Mighty Nein or any interesting scenes he'd seen during their travels. He did most based off his memory, but he preferred real-life reference.

They didn't have many quiet days nowadays. Opportunities to really sit down and commit his slice of reality to paper were growing more and more rare. He planned to make the most of what he was given.

He stood the sketching book up on the table with a supporting hand and moved to get his drawing charcoals out of their assigned pocket in his coat. Spare materials too small to use for any ritual spells, but perfect for drawing. They were of varying sizes, for when he needed thicker or thinner lines. There was even a more recent one for blending shades together better. It stained his fingertips, but not as much as blending with just his fingers used to.

He paused in the middle of taking one out as two pairs of footfalls made their way down the stairs. The two figures in question soon came into view, in two varying extremes of fashion. Both were familiar to him, though one was much less so. One was all flash and color, while the other was darkness and shades of it. They could not be any more different than each other, yet they were closer than most would expect. Caleb still wondered why that was. At least, if there was a deeper reason than what they gave.

Those two were Mollymauk and Yasha.

Neither seemed to notice him as they sat down at a table still within his sight. They continued to talk about whatever they wished as Caleb set to work on the peaceful scene strewn out towards him.

Sunlight poured in through the open windows, bathing the two and assorted empty tables in soft gold morning light. Molly seemed to be more open this morning, smiling as he spoke casually to his companion. His posture was relaxed against the wooden chair's support. Judging by how he reached one clawed hand to massage his temples with a tired grin, Caleb could assume easily that he was suffering from the choices he'd made last night. It was easy to tell how he was feeling- Molly was an open book, albeit one consisting mainly of extravagant lies and half-truths that one had to sift through to get to any semblance of reality. But not right now.

Yasha was a tougher read. Always had been. She seemed as stoic and sober as she was every other day, but even she seemed more relaxed in Molly's company. Whenever he said some sort of comment with that infuriatingly attractive smug grin of his, she rolled her eyes as she usually did. Yet her lips would also quirk up in the smallest of fond smiles. It was always quick to disappear, but the meaning was clearer. The signs were there, though tough to catch.

In no time, Caleb had a rough sketch drawn out of such a moment. There was very little detail in the scene, other than outlines of light sources and where they cast shadows for later reference. Normally, he would go into a haze. He wouldn't stop working on a piece until it was properly plotted out with every little detail done to perfection. He _despised_ leaving anything incomplete, especially his sketch pieces.

Yet... he couldn't do it. He couldn't pour himself into this work right now as he usually could. He struggled to even finish the rough sketch completely. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and they itched for a better muse to capture instead of this one. At first, he didn't realize what he wanted to do instead.

Fortunately, it didn't take him long to realize just what- or rather _who-_ he wished to focus on. Who his muse was once again.

Molly.

He drew the other members of the Mighty Nein quite often. It was fair, considering how much time he spent with them in particular and their... interesting array of members. Each of them had traits about them that made for interesting works- Beau and her choice of fashion (including the goggles that made her look like a bigger nerd than him), Jester and the wild array of freckles on her face that changed nearly every day (he could tell), Fjord and the strange magic he had that made him powerful (but also cough up seawater every morning). The list could go on forever. He traveled with a wild bunch.

Yet Molly starred in his portraits and works far more than any other person. As he did everywhere else, he stood out from the rest of the crowd in Caleb's mind. 

For the life of him, Caleb could not explain why. Maybe it was how natural it felt to do so. Maybe it was because the tiefling was a work of art all his own, and he wished to hone his skills by catching that beauty on paper. Or maybe it was because of how difficult him and his many details were to draw (especially that _damn coat of his),_ and Caleb didn't want to back down from that challenge.

So far, he hadn't settled on a viable answer yet. It didn't matter.

Like a man possessed, Caleb switched to another page and began capturing this form of Molly in much more detail. It was much easier to fall into the drawing rush that way, he quickly found when he set to work. 

On most days, Molly was a vision. Much like the tattoos climbing up his neck and part of his face, he was a peacock. A glittering beauty with just an air of something more. Yet when you tried to find what that was, he retreated back to the safety of dishonesty. As Caleb deterred others from getting too close with his dirt and... well, _stink,_ Molly seemed to do the same in reverse. His dazzling appearance and his easy demeanor seemed to shield him from any prying eyes seeing who he truly was.

Some days, he doubted even Molly knew who he truly was. The greatest con of all.

Yet right now, Molly seemed to be... different. The shield was still held up firmly, but not quite at the height it usually was. The act wasn't on yet. For one, his hair was disheveled. It didn't look like he had put any effort into maintaining so far. It was still strangely attractive, just in a different way than it usually was. 

For another, he wasn't wearing his coat. Nor his dark leather bracers. 

Right now, the only thing he wore on his torso was his thin white undershirt. The loose deeply-cut garment hung off his shoulders and showed a sizable portion of his chest. It was littered with mysterious scars that easily caught the eye and kept it. Made the mind wander and wonder how they were caused.

If his eyes lingered too long on any of them, it was simply for artistic accuracy. That's what he told himself. Whether or not that statement was actually accurate was another thing entirely.

Caleb found himself looking up at Molly more often than he usually would. Mainly to look for any little details he might have missed previously, but at least some small part of him didn't try to ignore the truth of the matter. He wasn't completely blind to the truth behind his sneaking peeks- Molly, especially right now, was undeniably attractive. He could admit that in the safety of his mind.

While his mind was on that particular track, he discovered why Molly seemed more attractive than ever before. This was the most honest he'd ever seen the man be ever since they'd met. There was a rare air of truth in every gesture, every expression, every loose and relaxed smile.

In the morning light in such a state, he was the most sublime person Caleb had ever seen. The scene with Molly at the center was easy to admire, as if plucked from the greatest masterpiece in history. He finished his piece and set his charcoals down to take a moment for himself. Bask in the beauty on such a wonderfully serene day.

Of course, it didn't last long. Such moments never do.

"Psst!" A familiar hushed voice sounded right by his ear. With a jolt, he instinctively closed the book and turned to face his new companion. Jester stood next to him on the side opposite his corner. Her hair was wild for the moment, the spray of freckles on her face even more so. Her eyes glittered with the kind of mischief that placed stones of dread to sink down his stomach. They flickered over to his now-closed sketching book and charcoals. "Who were you drawing, Caleb? Do you draw us?"

Oh dear. How could he answer such a question?

"Someone from... very long ago," he lied. The slight quirk of her eyebrow told him that she didn't quite believe him yet. "I wanted to... draw their face so I never forget it."

She tilted her head in curiosity. "That's weird," she commented. "I thought you remembered everything. How could you forget someone's face?"

"I remember details much longer than most, that is true," he admitted, thinking up the next part of his lie as he went along. He didn't like it, but he had a feeling that Jester of all people knowing the truth would be disastrous. "But eventually my mind has to... purge disused information to accommodate the new. Names, dates, faces- the lot of it."

Jester seemed to buy that much easier. "Ohh," she said with a brief nod. "That makes sense." She fell silent for a moment. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. It wouldn't be that easy to convince her. Finally she spoke up again. "...So who is this person? I didn't see a lot of the picture, but they look a _lot_ like Molly."

"I... am aware of that," he said. "It's an uncanny resemblance. That was how I remembered them, actually. I wanted to draw them while their face was still fresh in my memory. Before they faded away again."

She still had a bit of it lingering in her, but her curiosity seemed to win out over her suspicion. Her expression relaxed to familiarity. As did her posture. She leaned against the wall casually, still eyeing the leather tome. "Do you, though?"

He was expecting more questions, but definitely not one like that. Now it was his turn to raise a brow at her. "Do I... what? What do you mean?"

"From what I asked earlier," she specified. "Do you draw us? The Mighty Nein?" She shrugged. "I mean, _I_ do all the time, so I wanted to know if you did that too."

"I... Yes," he decided to go for honesty. "I do not draw as often as you do, but I do draw all of you. Mostly individually. Other than that, I do scenery that I've come across in my travels." Just so she wouldn't ask what else he drew next.

Strangely enough, when he looked at her face again, she looked... _hurt._ Concern was obvious in every aspect- especially her tail, which tended to twitch side to side whenever she was distressed. Guess what it was doing at the moment?

"Jester," he asked softly. "What's-"

He didn't get the opportunity to finish that sentence. Mainly because Jester finally voiced her pressing concern. She looked to him and said, as serious as the grave...

"Do you think you're going to forget us one day?"

...Oh.

Oh _dear._

That question, paired with the look on her face, tugged on his heartstrings better than any bard. His mind raced to come up with some kind of solution. Something, _anything_ to assure her.

"I... explained it wrong," he started, idly rolling his fingers. A little tick he tended to get whenever he was nervous. "My apologies. I do not 'forget,' necessarily. It is just that my brain tends to tuck away unnecessary information. Almost as..." 

He tried to think of a good way to describe it. His eyes fell to the sketching book. "...Almost as a librarian would put less popular books in the very back- they're still there, still able to be pulled out if they're needed, but they're not as accessible as ones that are more useful. Making room for anything more important." He paused for a moment. "...Does that make sense?" He could only hope.

Jester nodded and cast her eyes to the floor with a contemplative gaze. Her expression's hold on concern softened, but it was still holding on. The explanation certainly helped, but it hadn't seemed to be enough to ease her mind fully. The lack of her cheerful voice hung heavier in the air than any other silence he'd experienced. It bothered him greatly.

So he resorted to his last. He asked a question he'd never breathed to anyone else.

"Jester," he waited to see her ears twitch up in response before continuing. "Do you wish to see my portraits of the Mighty Nein?"

He'd never made that offer to anyone else in his entire life. Mainly because he barely trusted anyone enough to- his sketching book was his safe haven, his little private retreat when everything was _too much-_ or hadn't felt it was necessary. Now was the only exception he'd come across.

Thankfully, it _worked._ It was almost as if a wave of happiness had washed over Jester, restoring her back to her usual self. She looked to him with excitement sparkling in her eyes. When she smiled wide at him, he noticed a new detail about her- she had dimples.

"Really? You'd let me see them?" She gasped when he nodded. She nodded quickly. "Oh, yes! Yes, absolutely!"

Caleb held back his sigh of relief, but it clung to his lungs for a later, more private release. The tension in his shoulders dropped at the return to familiarity. Instead of rolling, his fingers occupied themselves with reaching for the tome. He opened it to the very first page- the first time he'd drawn a member of the Mighty Nein, Nott.

Technically, it wasn't. He had drawn Nott before. The thing was, all those other times were before meeting the others. So, in his mind, it counted. Albeit on a very shady loophole.

The portrait itself was fairly simple. It captured another quiet moment, when the two of them were alone in the town before they met the Nein. He remembered the scene and the context behind it quite well- it was early evening, bare traces of dusk light filtering through thin dirty curtains into their dusty shared room. 

Nott was getting fidgety with her lingering itch, but they were under close watch. There were no true accusations from the Crown's Guard yet, but they were under near-constant surveillance. They couldn't afford to do anything even somewhat illegal.

So instead, Caleb promised to take her to her favorite little restaurant in town before they left. Anything she wanted. As long as she didn't nick anything from anyone for the rest of the week they were supposed to stay.

Her eyes immediately brightened at the prospect. Her slit pupils widened at the thought, and she gave him a wide and hopeful smile. He made sure to capture the strangely charming crookedness of her teeth. Her mask was gone entirely from her person. For once, her hood was down to show her greasy, unkempt hair. The dark orange lighting complimented her greatly.

That was what he chose for the very first page of his new sketching book. A fairly good start, he'd say.

"By the Traveller," she said, bending down until her chin was on his shoulder for a better view. "That is _so good!"_ She looked to him curiously. "How long did that take you to draw?"

"I... am not sure," he admitted. "Time tends to blend together when I draw. This could have taken five minutes or five hours, and I wouldn't be able to tell after I come out of it."

"Lucky," she said. "Okay. Next one, please."

He flipped to the next page, showcasing Beau and her ridiculous-looking dark-vision goggles and looking proud of herself. It made Jester snort and giggle. Thankfully not _too_ loud, considering she was right by his ear.

They quickly fell into a nice little routine. He'd flip to the page he wished to show, and she would react accordingly. Especially if it depicted her. Usually she'd make some comment on a certain detail, ranging from hilarious to inappropriate (and the middle ground that lay between). The occasional little story was told, and they would move on.

If he skipped a sizable portion of the Molly portraits he'd done, that was simply to save time. That was the only reason.

...That, and he didn't wish to endure Jester's knowing teasing until the end of time.

Eventually, they reached the end of works he felt comfortable with showing. For a moment, they stood in mutual but amicable silence. Jester moved away from him, a question already brewing on her mind. He closed the tome and waited for it to hit him.

"Caleb," she looked to him questioningly. "You've drawn everyone in the group... except yourself." She tilted her head slightly. "Why is that?"

He... didn't really have an answer for that. He'd never thought about drawing himself at all. Maybe because it seemed too self-centered. Or maybe he focused on everything else around him more than he ever thought of himself. Whatever the truth was, he didn't know it. So he simply shrugged. "I do not know why. That's a fairly good question, Jester."

"I've got another one," she told him, pointing to his sketching book. "Would it be alright if _I_ drew you?"

He raised a cautious brow. "Why would you want to?"

"You're part of the group, aren't you?" She shrugged casually. "I thought you would want to be included. I won't do anything mean, if that's what you're worried about." She held one hand up and use the other to draw an imaginary X on her chest. "Cross my heart."

That was nice to hear, at least. It would sting significantly if he took this step to trusting someone, and got mocked for it. He still wasn't sure how to feel about it, but he decided for once to take a chance. 

Without a word, he slid the book and a single piece of charcoal towards her. She took it eagerly and mouthed 'Thank you' before flipping to the next available page and setting to work.

While she sat on top of the table closest to Caleb's, his eyes ventured out to the rest of the tavern. Molly was still at his original spot, yet Yasha was not. As was her apparent tendency, she seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Molly didn't seem to mind that. Out of everybody, he was definitely the one most used to it.

Instead, Beau and Fjord sat at the table. Without being able to hear a single word from them, Caleb could tell their situation. Beau was especially hungover, which seemed to make her more grouchy and snappy than usual. Molly was definitely exploiting it, judging both from her irritation and his blatant enjoyment. Fjord looked like the tired parent to two troublemaking children.

Molly still looked at ease, but it was... different now. The shield was back up. The honesty was gone.

Caleb found himself sorely missing it already. He wished he'd gotten the chance to actually speak to Molly in such a state. Purely for his curiosity's sake, of course. That was all.

He watched the three for a while until Jester tapped his shoulder. When he looked at her, she slid the closed book back on the tabletop along with her borrowed charcoal. "I hope you like it," was all she said before casually walking away from him to join the three at the table.

As soon as she was gone, he flipped to the correct page.

He was astonished by what he saw.

Not because it was- well, he didn't want to insult Jester's work. It was definitely good, but it normally wouldn't be enough to give him such a reaction. Her artistic style was... strange. Which, in retrospect, he really should have expected from someone like her. 

It wasn't realistic in the way his works were- his eyes were slightly bigger and rounder than they actually were, along with plenty of other unrealistic exaggerations of his anatomy. While his artistic style was still and detailed as if you were there, hers seemed like the things she drew would fit more if they could move and speak as their own entities.

Regardless, he enjoyed it very much. It was flattering that she would do something like this for him. That wasn't what astonished him.

What astonished him was the note she left in messy yet contained handwriting on the page next to it.

_Dear Caleb,_

_Again, thanks for letting me use this!! If the Traveller's okay with it, I would love to show you some of my other drawings sometime. I have a lot from our adventures so far. I hope there will be a lot more._

_Keep it up! You're very good at this!!_

She signed her name below it in big, looping cursive. Yet the message didn't end there. As usual, she had more to say.

_P.S. (also I saw your drawings of Molly.)_

_P.P.S. (don't worry, I won't tell him. your secret is safe with me.)_

To the side of the very last line, Jester had drawn a small and simple portrait of her face winking at him with a smile.

It didn't reassure him in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!  
> my tumblr: squishy--squish


End file.
